


Is This Love?

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, post 5x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breaking up isn't necessarily goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is This Love?

Mickey doesn't know what he took. He didn't mean to take anything, but he's not good at resisting candy, and...well, what he considers candy and what everyone else at the party considers candy seems to be different. Still, whatever it is has made him horny as fuck, and all his brain seems to be able to say is _IanIanIan_.

The problem is that he and Ian aren't together and, because Ian is both an asshole off his meds and because Mickey's a glutton for punishment, Ian's at the party with someone else, and Mickey's at the party. He fucking hates parties, but he can't seem to stay away from Gallagher when he has the safety of a crowd.

Not that the crowd matters once Mickey sees him. Ian's leaning against the wall wearing a battered leather jacket and a gray shirt that Mickey is pretty sure used to be his. Mickey licks his lips and weaves through the laughing drunks. He stumbles over something and nearly falls into Ian.

"Mickey?"

"Ian." _IanIanIan_

"What are you doing here?"

"Fuck off, Milkovich."

Mickey turns and looks Ian's newest...whatever in the eye. He's taller than Mickey - and what the fuck is up with that all the time? - and obviously a complete and utter dick. "Say that again." 

After Mickey came out there were a host of rumors that he wasn't the same guy he'd been before. He wasn't the ruthless thug he had the reputation of being. Of course, then Ian broke up with him and Mickey actually got _mean_. Vicious replaced ruthless because he had nothing to lose. 

The guy takes a step back, because Mickey is nothing if not threatening and Mickey nods. "Thought so." He turns back to Ian and catches him looking, something in his eyes. "Need to talk to you."

"Mick..."

"You owe me that." The words don't match the voice in his head - _IanIanIan_ \- but they're true. Ian said Mickey didn't owe him anything, but Ian owes Mickey. Freedom to be gay, to be himself, doesn't fucking matter much without Ian.

"Okay." Ian exhales roughly. He pushes off the wall and heads toward the back of the house. Mickey doesn't even know whose house it is. Ian finds the bathroom and goes inside, and Mickey follows him. He locks the door and just stares at Ian for a minute.

"You said you wanted to talk."

Mickey doesn't want to talk. He wants to push Ian against the wall and kiss him rough and messy. He wants Ian to shove him back and turn him around and fuck him with a minimal amount of prep so Mickey will feel it for days. 

Instead words come out. Fucking words have _always_ gotten Mickey in trouble. Talking with his fists is much safer.

"Did you ever love me?"

Ian's eyes widen. "What?"

"After I came out. You...you went into a depression right after I came out. It's like you'd done your duty to shove me out of the closet, and then..."

"Jesus, Mickey. It wasn't you."

"I know that." Mickey inahles and holds his breath for a few minutes. His brain is quieter now, Ian's name not the desperate cry in his head. "I just wondered if you ever loved me. Loved me after that at least. Once...once the chase was over, the conquest."

"Fuck you." Ian's voice is rough and hurt, but Mickey's not sure he can care. All he does anymore is hurt. 

"You can't even say it. It's just a simple yes or no and you can't even say it." Mickey laughs, covering his face because all of a sudden the whole thing is ridiculously hilarious. "God, I'm still so fucking stupid when it comes to you."

"Mick..."

"No. No. It's cool. I gave too much of a shit about you. I gave you everything and that was too fucking much. I get it now."

"You're not being fair. You're not _listening_."

"Did you love me, Ian? When you broke up with me? When you told me we were done? When Sammi fucking chased me with a gun? Did you love me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Mickey asks, and he sounds disbelieving. He's stopped believing. Stopped hoping. He shakes his head. "Not sure which is worse. Lying to me or lying to yourself." 

"You're not being fair."

"When did you stop? When I got married? When you walked away the first time? When you came home and gave me ultimatums?" Mickey takes a step back and unlocks the bathroom door. "I came out for you. So I could be with you."

"And it meant everything."

"No, Ian. It didn't mean anything."

He leaves the bathroom, and he can still feel Ian's name pulsing through his blood, every beat of his heart matching the rise and fall of Ian's chest, every breath Ian's name. Mickey wonders if that's ever going to change. 

"Mickey."

He stops but he doesn't turn around. "No. I didn't love you. I still love you. No past tense."

Mickey nods. "But no future tense either." He glances over to Ian's date who's waiting at the end of the hall. "Do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Ian's voice breaks and Mickey gets a flash of the kid sitting across the glass from him with his stupid, hopeful smile. With that stupid, hopeful, addictive smile that Mickey fought against even though he knew it was a losing battle.

"Have a good life." He brushes past Ian's date, not looking at him. He might matter to Ian, but he doesn't matter to Mickey. He's just another face in the crowd, someone who isn't Ian.

**

Mickey looks up from the gun he's cleaning when Ian clears his throat. "Not sure what the fuck you're doing here, Gallagher."

"Colin let me in."

"Well, Colin's going to get his ass kicked." Mickey aims the gun at the wall and pulls the trigger. It clicks, empty. "How you got in doesn't explain why you're here though. Pretty sure we're done."

"You're better off without me."

"Yeah? Should I get to decide that? I mean, you want to tell me you're better off without me, that's fine. But you don't get to tell me I'm better off without you."

"You are."

Mickey's on his feet before he can think, gun aimed at Ian. "Yeah? Yeah? Really, Gallagher? You know what happens now? I get tried as an adult if I fuck up. Course, then I go away. Maybe I'll run into my dad in prison." He turns the gun on its side, still aimed at Ian. "Yeah. I'm fucking better off without you."

"I'm fucking _crazy_ , Mickey."

"Yeah, I know. And not doing a fucking thing about it. I know that too. So why the fuck are you here?" He lowers the gun and tosses it on the bed. "You don't get to be here."

Ian walks over to him and stands right in front of him. He smnells like cinnamon and sweat. "I walk by here every day. Think about being in here. Your house. Your bed."

"It was our bed." Mickey runs his hand through his hair. "You changing your mind? You want to get back together? Is that what you're going for here?"

"I just want to talk."

"I've done all the talking I'm going to do. And I listened to you. You're not broken. You don't need fixed. But there's too much wrong with you. And you don't care enough to fix that. You're just content to live like this. Not even try to find another way because one thing didn't work right off the bat. It's easier to quit. You know what I don't get?"

"What?" Ian's voice is tight.

"You fucking pursued me. You put up with every single piece of shit I threw at you, and I threw a _lot_ of shit. You kept fighting. You kept...you fought me tooth and nail. You wouldn't let me give up, give in. You wanted me to be your boyfriend. Your...whatever. You were never fucking say die."

"I told you how I feel."

"Yeah. You love me. Well, who needs love like that, huh? Who needs love that gives up when things get hard? Fuck your love, Ian. You made me fucking _believe_ in forever, and then you fucking...mock me for wanting it? I'm never going to be the guy you want, because you don't want me to be."

"That's not true."

"You say you're sick, Ian. But you don't want to be well. In this shithole it's easier to have an excuse. Lip got the invite to West Point. You fucked up the Army. What fucking prospects do you have? You gonna be a dishwasher all your life? Busboy?"

"You got _married!_ "

"Because I didn't want my dad to fucking _kill me_ Or you, you stupid fucking son-of-a-bitch. You think I wanted it? Do you? Honestly?" Mickey takes a deep breath to try and calm down. "What the fuck do you think I meant when I told you I couldn't tell you how I felt? Fuck, Ian."

Mickey picks up the gun and puts it back in his dresser drawer. Ian is quiet behind him, though he can hear him breathing, rough and angry and hurt. Maybe. Maybe a combination of those or something else entirely. Or maybe nothing at all.

"It wasn't just the bipolar." Ian's voice is quiet, but everything else in the house is silent, so it's easy to hear. "The Army. I sabotaged it on purpose too. Because being gone meant being away from you. And even though I couldn't just come back, I...You were hundreds of miles and four years away. And every single one of those 1460 days loomed like an eternity. I was going to fly that fucking helicopter and land it in the middle of the baseball field."

"Then why the _fuck_ did you break up with me?"

"Because you deserve..."

"You finish that sentence, and I swear to god, I'll grab one of the fucking loaded ones."

"I'm never going to get better. It doesn't go away."

"I know."

"And I can't ask you to stay."

"You didn't ask, Ian." Mickey looks up at the ceiling then back at Ian. "I offered. I knew that your disorder was a life sentence, and I still offered."

"You can't know that you'll want to be there in five years, in ten."

"You think I'd know that if you weren't bipolar? Life's not a fucking sure thing. Living here you ought to fucking know that. No, I can't fucking promise forever, Ian, but neither the fuck can _you_. Maybe you'll get sick of me telling you to take your pills or making you eat breakfast. Maybe you'll get tired of me giving a shit. Or maybe it'll get to be routine and I won't be so fucking annoying. Maybe you'll find someone else. Maybe maybe maybe. All life is is _maybe_."

"Don't you want more than that?"

"Doesn't everyone? But there aren't any guarantees. If you don't want this, Ian, then say that. Don't say you're doing it for me. If you don't want this, don't want me, than fucking own up to it."

"I don't know what I want," Ian admits softly. "It's all jumbled up in my head. You make me feel loved, safe. But you also make me feel like I'm letting you down, disappointing you. I'm not what you signed up for."

"What was it you said to me? You want that shit-talking, bitch-slapping piece of southside trash? That's what you signed up for, Ian. That's not who I am anymore. Not really. And maybe that's our problem. I'm not who you want anymore."

"I just don't want a fucking nurse. I don't want you to fucking take care of me. I wanted my _boyfriend_. I wanted the asshole who wasn't afraid to tell me what I needed to hear. Who wasn't afraid that I'd fucking break."

"I never thought you'd break, Ian." Mickey sighs. "I was afraid you needed more than I am, and so I was trying my hardest to be who I thought you needed."

"You never asked me who I needed."

"You never told me until you were pissed off that I wasn't that person." 

"I hate you sometimes." Ian swallows hard. "I hate that you're so good to me. I hate that you're...that I'm not..."

"Ian," Mickey cuts him off and takes the few steps to close the distance between them. "People change. The only thing that matters is if you love me. If you want to be with me. And if I love you and if I want to be with you. My answer hasn't changed." He braces himself, but he doesn't look away. "Has yours?"

"I don't know." Ian shakes his head. "I'm scared."

"I've been scared since the day you plowed into my room with a fucking tire iron. From the moment I felt your fucking dick hard underneath me. Because I knew. Even though I didn't want to know."

Ian nods this time. "I knew. I knew too, but...I don't know."

Mickey lets out a slow breath. "Okay. Well. I never planned on going anywhere, and it's not like opportunity's beating down my door. Shithole or not, you know where I live."


End file.
